


this is not a temporary love

by halfwayinit



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M, ballum secret santa, just pure christmas fluff :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwayinit/pseuds/halfwayinit
Summary: The snowflakes are slowly fluttering to the ground, mesmerising Callum as he sits watching from the window. In the distance, he hears the front door slam as his father storms out, most likely heading to the pub to drown his sorrows. It’s nothing that Callum isn’t used to, his dad and his big brother Stuart fight almost every day, leaving Callum to tiptoe around the broken pieces of their family that they leave behind.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	this is not a temporary love

**Author's Note:**

> my secret santa gif to @biggayhighway over on tumblr!   
> merry christmas and i hope you enjoy x

The snowflakes are slowly fluttering to the ground, mesmerising Callum as he sits watching from the window. In the distance, he hears the front door slam as his father storms out, most likely heading to the pub to drown his sorrows. It’s nothing that Callum isn’t used to, his dad and his big brother Stuart fight almost every day, leaving Callum to tiptoe around the broken pieces of their family that they leave behind. 

Since their mother died, their family has never been the same. She was the life and soul of their family, the one who got everyone in the Christmas spirit by putting the radio on full blast and covering every inch of the flat in tinsel and tacky Christmas decorations. These days everything feels dull and empty, especially at Christmas when their feelings of loss and grief seem to amplify more than ever before. Tonight, it’s Christmas Eve and Callum is holding out hope that Santa can still find him despite their flat having no chimney and no Christmas tree.

When it’s clear that his dad won’t be coming home any time soon, and Stuart won’t be leaving his room, Callum bundles himself up in a winter coat, woolen hat, gloves and scarf. He decides to go for a walk, wanting to escape the tense confines of their tiny flat more than anything else. Of course, he plans to be home soon, knowing that Father Christmas won’t visit if he stays up too late.

The streets of Walford are busy, last minute shoppers scrambling to buy presents that will pass as semi-decent and parents attempting to wear out their kids before the big man’s arrival. Callum keeps his head down as he walks, knowing exactly where he’s headed. When his mum was still around, she took him to a park near their flat, content to sit back and sip her coffee as Callum wore himself out running around and making friends with every child that looked his way. 

Now, Callum finds the park empty, reminding him of just how alone he has felt since his mother’s passing. There’s no one to talk to, no one to share in the excitement of Father Christmas’ impending visit, no one to remind him that it’s okay to feel sad at this time of year, especially when such an important person in your life is no longer around to share in the excitement of the festivities. 

Callum swings back and forth, his legs kicking out and in, making him swing higher and higher with every passing second. He’s so lost in the monotony of it all that he hardly registers the swing beside him becoming occupied. It’s only when a quiet voice murmurs out a shy “hello” that Callum realises he’s not alone. 

He drags his feet on the snow-covered tarmac, stopping himself from swinging any further as he looks to his right, not expecting to see a boy around his own age looking right back at him.

“Hi” Callum says, a small smile spreading across his face. “I’m Callum Highway.”

“I’m Ben.” says the little brunette boy, sticking out his glove-covered hand for Callum to shake. “Ben Mitchell.”

They end up sitting on the swings, just swaying slightly, no longer reaching for the sky with every swing of their legs, as they sit and talk to one another. Callum doesn’t have many friends, the boys in school make fun of his shabby clothes and scuffled shoes, but Ben is nice, talking to Callum like he wants to be his friend.

“How come you’re not in bed?” Ben asks, pulling his hat even further down his head, “None of my friends are allowed to stay up this late on Christmas Eve.”

Callum shrugs, embarrassment flutters low in his belly, knowing that he can’t say too much about what it’s like at home. His dad had warned him of that a long time ago, after his mum died, warning Callum that he must never let people ask too many questions about what their family is like.

“My dad doesn’t really mind,” Callum says, fingers tightening ever so slightly around the chain of the swing. “How come you’re allowed out then?”

Ben is silent for a moment, head facing down to the ground as he watches the snowflakes fall over and over until they’re no longer recognisable from the mound of snow beneath his feet.

“My dad doesn’t really care what I do.. He thinks I’m in bed watching a film when he works downstairs. But, I can’t sleep when people are still in the pub, so I came here.”

Callum nods, feeling like he can understand how Ben feels. It’s not easy having a dad whose main concern is never his children. You always feel second best, if even, like you never come top of their list of priorities.

The two of them stay like that for a while, swaying back and forth on the swing set as they talk about everything and nothing, until the sky blankets them in darkness and the snow begins to fall heavier and heavier with every passing second.

“Goodnight Callum” Ben waves, a toothy smile on his face as he hops off the swing, worried that Father Christmas won’t visit if he stays out too late, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Ben.”

-

Ben takes a long swig from the bottle of whiskey he’s smuggled out from the pub, grimacing at the taste but appreciating the way it seems to warm him from the inside out. 

“Gimme some of it will ya” Callum huffs, quickly rubbing his hands together and blowing into his palms in a vain attempt to produce some heat “I’m turning into Frosty the Snowman over here!” 

Ben rolls his eyes at Callum’s dramatics, but passes over the bottle nonetheless. It’s become their tradition over the years, since that very first night that they met, meeting in the park every Christmas Eve. This year, the difference is that they’re no longer naive little kids, waiting with bated breath for Father Christmas to come down the chimney. No, now they’ve sadly entered the real world, aware of the grim reality of the festive season. With families like theirs, Father Christmas was the only thing that made Christmas worthwhile. Now, the bottle of whiskey will have to do. 

“Jesus” Callum coughs, chest heaving as he thrusts the bottle back into Ben’s hands, “That stuff is fucking rank!” 

Ben doubles over on the swing, loud laughter filling the otherwise silent park. Callum’s not a big drinker anyway, but whiskey? Most definitely not his cup of tea, Ben should’ve known. He should’ve brought a bottle of Baileys, or even some cheap wine, but the whiskey was the first thing he could get his hands on. 

“Well I couldn’t swipe any of the good stuff, Dad would kill me.” He takes another swig, like he’s trying to prove that it’s not all bad, but the way his eyebrows furrow together once he swallows the awful brown liquid gives him away. 

They forget about the whiskey after a while, the bottle still almost full as they take turns complaining about their families and how much they’re dreading having to spend the entirety of Christmas Day with them. 

“Stuart’s attempting to cook a turkey this year” Callum grimaces, not daring to think about what he might get plated up for his Christmas dinner. Stuart’s no Gordon Ramsey, he can hardly make toast without cremating it, but he’s adamant that he’s going to cook them a delicious turkey, so Callum just went along with it. 

Ben pretends to gag, having heard more than enough about Stuart’s attempts at cooking to know that it’ll most likely end in disaster.

“Good luck mate, you know the signs of food poisoning though right? Don’t want you dying on me.”

Callum huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes fondly at Ben’s dramatics. 

“I’m hoping for a Christmas miracle.” 

The next afternoon, in the midst of the usual Mitchell Christmas Day craziness, Ben’s phone pings with a notification. It’s a Snapchat from Callum, eyes bright as he gives a big cheesy smile for the camera. 

_ I survived Stu’s dinner!! you’re not getting rid of me that easy Mitchell :)  _

Ben finds himself smiling widely at his screen, an effect that Callum seems to have on him a lot, as he snaps back a quick selfie.

_ It’s a Christmas miracle!!!  _

He can hardly remember what life was like before he met Callum, the two of them bonding instantly all those years ago in the park over their dysfunctional families and just wanting to survive the festive season. 

Whatever it was that brought them together, Ben thanks his lucky stars for it. 

-

Callum’s swaying slowly on the swing set, lost in thought as he watches families pass by in the distance, kids brimming with excitement that Father Christmas will be coming down the chimney tonight. 

It makes him smile, the childhood innocence, it reminds him of the night that he met Ben right here in this very park, the two of them looking for an escape from their families until they could drift off in anticipation for Father Christmas’ visit. 

They’ve come a long way since then, the two of them together, no longer those little kids who long to hide away. 

Now, Christmas is a time that they celebrate, basking in every aspect of the festive season. They’ve decorated their little flat from floor to ceiling, the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner with an overflow of presents beneath the branches. 

Callum’s so lost in thought that he almost jumps when Ben sits on the swing next to him, hand outstretched to pass his boyfriend a hot chocolate, the steam from the cup swirling in the cold air between them. 

“What’s got you so lost in thought?” Ben asks, smitten smile gracing his lips as he watches Callum softly blow on the hot chocolate to cool it down. 

Callum shrugs, reaching out his free hand to grasp Ben’s own, fingers interlinking the way they have a thousand times before. A perfect fit, Callum thinks. 

“Just happy.. glad we found each other all those years ago.” 

Ben squeezes Callum’s hand gently, as if to say  _ I’m glad too _ . He leans in then, catching Callum’s lips in a sweet kiss, overwhelmed with just how in love he feels in this very moment. It’s soft and sweet, and over far too quick, but it says everything that words could never do.

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Ben whispers, silently thanking whatever Christmas miracle gave him this angel in front of him. 

“Merry Christmas darlin.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!   
> find me on tumblr @ halfwayinit


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